Monday, April 30, 2018

Amy: Eric and I love playing school. He makes for a very strict yet sexy
principal. ;) We have an old fashioned stick that used to be inflicted
on students back in the day. Our cheese board is also like a thin
fraternity paddle. I've got the clothes and long enough hair for
pigtails. "Playing" keeps life more interesting and fun.

Rosco: Irene and I play out variations of many recurring fantasies. Our most
common perhaps is that she and her (bitchy) friend Laura catch me trying
to glimpse their panties as they walk up the stairs. I'm pretending to
eat cookies, but doing a pretty lousy job of it.

They tell Ms.
Simons on me. Ms. Simons instructs me to stay after school, then asks if
I have been trying to peek up girls' skirts. I deny it. She doesn't
believe me and tells me I need to learn a lesson. Ms. Simons yanks down
my pants and whips my bottom with a riding crop long past the point
where I am begging for mercy. She then sends me to the corner to reflect
on my behavior.

A few minutes later, there is a knock on the
door. It's Irene and Louise. Ms. Simons has decided they need to learn
to discipline naughty boys like me on their own. Each of the girls takes
her own turn with the riding crop, and I am sent back to the corner.

I
am forced to confess my obsession with girls panties. Ms. Simons
explains the punishment should fit the crime and gives me a pair of pink
frilly panties to wear. Irene and Laura are besides themselves,
laughing at me.

The next day, they drag me into the girls'
bathroom and yank down my pants to show their friends. I carry their
books home from school for the rest of the semester and suffer many more
whippings.

Windy: Yes, to just the paddle! Storm ordered a new one earlier this week as
it was recommended by Bonnie on Amy's (who has buns of steel, imho)
blog. I fear I may have been coaxed down a painful road....

Roz: We have occasionally indulged in the schoolroom fantasy in the past. We don't have traditional school implements.

Yorkie: Nope. Just me over my wife's lap, both of us naked and me with a red, hot bottom. Sheer bliss!

Bogey: Bacall can get a sassy mouth in a heartbeat when she wants to. She had a
short plaid skirt and frilly socks and looked great bent over the desk
all the while protesting the paddling.

KDPierre: Out of all of my stories I only wrote two where a school setting was
employed ......and only because one was an intentionally venomous
skewering of the hackneyed "British Schoolgirl Caning"-scenario that I
tend to loathe. The other required a school setting because it was a
reworking of the famous Tom Sawyer/Becky Thatcher punishment scene.
Otherwise? Not really.

Years ago I did a sort of school scene
where I was doing the Topping......and it left a very bad taste in my
mouth. I even cut it short despite the fact that the sub I was
tormenting was enjoying herself just fine.

I have horrible
recollections of cruel abuse from my Grammar school days, particularly
First Grade. Not to me but to others.....including a boy who was
mentally and physically handicapped. It was Catholic school and the nun
in this case should have been retired years before terrorizing us. Her
solution to the inability of this clearly impaired child to do things
precisely was to beat him regularly and cruelly.

It's hard to eroticize a schoolroom setting when you grew up witnessing something like that.

A.J.: Never cared that much for a CLASSROOM setting, preferring after school
detention where teacher and student are all alone and work out any
"problems". Whether a female teacher with her male student or vice
versa - all in fun.

Anon: I have to admit, I'm not keen on stories or videos of schoolgirls being
punished, but I do love seeing mature women dressed up in schoolgirl
attire and properly disciplined either lying across their male teachers'
laps for hand or ruler spankings, or bent over a desk or chair for more
severe doses of the paddle or the strap. Unfortunately the women I've
played with were not into role play, but I haven't given up hope for the
future.

Ronnie: Years ago we did a few schoolroom scenes. I had the short skirt, white blouse, tie and pumps. P made an impressive Headmaster.

The Glenmore: Although it was not a 'classic' schoolroom scene my wife did give me a
month report card...and a schoolboy like punishment for poor grades.
I must say I do enjoy the sight of a grown woman in a cute school uniform.

Hermione: When I was a child, there was nothing i enjoyed more than playing school, either alone or with a friend or cousin. I was a stern teacher, and my dolls and teddies were invariably spanked for misbehaving or for being stupid. Nowadays, not so much, although I do enjoy a good dose of the strap, which was commonly used on boys when I was at school.

Sunday, April 29, 2018

Welcome once again to our ever-popular weekend spanko brunch. Speaking of the good old days, one of my favourite bloggers, now retired, was Abel, co-author of The Spanking Writers. His stories are still available here, and if you read them, you will notice that many of them feature schoolgirls in short kilts and knee socks, bending over for the cane.

Are you fond of schoolroom scenes in stories or images? Do you ever try to recreate them? Do you regularly use schoolroom-type implements such as rulers, straps, paddles or canes?

As usual, please respond in the comments section below. Once everyone has had a chance to speak I will publish a summary of our conversation.

Saturday, April 28, 2018

Anon 1: ...less is better, those days proved that life was more enjoyable, people
interacted more. We have let ourselves be overtaken by our thirst to
make life easier, when it was already easier, back to Less is Better.

Anon 3: ...kids playing in the street/yard rushing home before the street lights turn on?

Baxter: ...telephones that hung on the wall or sat on the table at home? Now
everyone has one and every spare second is spent staring at it for who
knows why. (disclaimer - I have one but I do not walk or drive looking
at the stupid thing.)

Ronnie: ...the movie rentals stores? I was going to say about children playing in the street.

Windy: ...being able to play outside in the heat all day and getting a drink from
the garden hose? It gets above 80 now and I have to stick my head in a
bucket of ice.

NoraJean: Good question Hermione .... I've been thinking about this off and on for
the past couple of days and couldn't come up with anything that didn't
sound like it was coming from an old coot longing for the good ol' days,
which in reality, is a distorted view held by every generation. I do
agree with Anon 1 ... in our search for tools and technology to make life
easier, we've made it more complicated.

Ricky: ...going to the local movie theatre. It was fun to tear the movie apart with your friends, saying how bored you were. And still you went back, week after week. Ah, those were the days.

Friday, April 27, 2018

Products now come with labels cautioning against all sorts of hazards that, it would seem, were quite obvious. You have all seen, or are aware of, the "Warning, coffee may be hot" notice on paper coffee cups. But here are some you may not have seen. Click on the photos to enlarge if you have trouble reading the text.

Thursday, April 26, 2018

Lately I've been thinking about the good old days, which in many ways may not have been all that good, but at least things were simpler then. Only four television channels to choose from, one radio station, one movie theater with a double feature, and peanut butter sandwiches in every child's lunchbox. That leads me to this week's sentence for you to complete.

Whatever happened to...?

Finish the sentence in any way you like. Your addition can be kinky or vanilla, humorous or serious. I'll publish your sentences on Saturday.

Tuesday, April 24, 2018

We have come to the final segment of "The Ladies of Heatherton Hall". You may recall that last week, Gwyneth got into some hot water while protesting the building of beach houses on the island. She was sentenced to a birching, which Josh promised to deliver in private. She was sent out of the room to prepare herself, and now she is ready.

She arrived in the company of her maid, minutes later, wearing a short silk dressing gown. Josh whistled to himself as she disrobed. Underneath she wore only a brief camisole and tap pants which put her lean legs and curvy figure on full display.

There was a knock and Josh opened the door for Mrs. Finch. She held a birch, but it was different. It was short, maybe eighteen inches long.

“That is not a regulation birch rod,” announced the deputy, frowning. “She won’t even feel two dozen with that.”

“We do not have a frame here,” said Josh. He looked Gwyneth in the eye. “So she is going across my knee. The tradition requires appropriate punishment. She has behaved like a child, and so it is appropriate that she be punished like one. This, as I understand it, is called a nursery birch. It will do, after I give her a sound spanking with the flat of my hand.”

At that, the deputy’s face broke out in a broad smile. The humiliation of seeing Lady Gwyneth treated like a ten-year-old by a man her own age was too delicious.

“Please proceed, sir,” she said with a smug grin.

Meanwhile, Gwyneth was aghast. A spanking? She had been prepared to take a dozen with the rod, but to be spanked like a child? Just like her cousins? And by this man? She went hot and cold at the same time. Her stomach did flips and her limbs were shaking. She watched as the new master of Heatherton Hall slid an armless chair out from the wall. He took Gwyneth by the hand and led her to the chair. Seating himself, he drew her face down across his knee, arranging her so that her bottom was arched up prominently.

The feel of her body was electrifying, and the sight of her—the lean legs, the tiny waist, the shapely bottom straining against silky tap pants pulled tight. He was getting an uncomfortably stiff erection. Her groin pressed against his. She could probably feel it. But the piece de resistance came into view when he inserted his fingers and peeled down the tap pants. Her bottom was breathtaking—two rounded globes, set off from the tops of her thighs, with a tight crease between and not an ounce of excess fat.

“Are you ready, Gwyneth?” asked Josh calmly, as if this were an ordinary occurrence.

“Y-yes.” What else could she say? Her body was quivering with twin emotions: embarrassment and something else... excitement? Josh patted the twin orbs, testing their resilience. The flesh was wonderfully soft, yet springy. Then, without further ado, he raised his hand and brought it down with a loud smack, right on the center of her bottom. She gasped and flinched. He smacked her left cheek, then her right. She drew a sharp breath through her teeth and arched her back. Then he launched into a methodical spanking of her bottom in which he scattered the spanks around, covering all of that gorgeous, quivering behind, from the top to the deep overhang of her cheeks, up one side and down the other. Ohhhh, this stings, she thought, and she squirmed involuntarily, fluttering her legs.

Her toes drummed on the floor. The heat in her bottom increased dramatically as the brisk spanks fell in relentless rhythm. I’m across his knee, being spanked, with my bare bottom on display. He can see everything! She could not shake the thought that, although what he was doing to her was mortifying and shameful, her body had betrayed her. It was wickedly sensual. Josh observed her bottom as he spanked. It wobbled deliciously, a pink flush appearing that quickly changed to a deeper shade as he briskly smacked the quivering orbs.

Deputy Beacham smiled. This was good. Look at that. The haughty Lady Heatherton, squirming and flopping over the man’s knee—spanked like a naughty schoolgirl suitably punished. She smiled with satisfaction as she observed Gwyneth’s naked bottom absorbing smack after smack. And from the sound of it, they were good ones, too, solid cracks that made her cheeks flatten, then spring back. Yes, this was a good, sound spanking.

After a few minutes Josh stopped. Gwyneth was breathing heavily. She couldn’t stop squirming. Her rear was throbbing hot. Josh picked up the birch. Gwyneth looked over her shoulder, alarmed.

“I believe it was two dozen, correct?”

Deputy Beacham nodded.

Josh flicked the rod down, swick! Gwyneth flinched and gasped. It was a hot intense sting, different from the spanking.

Again, swick! Again, swick!

Yow, that stung! thought Gwyneth, adjusting to a new sensation. It was a burn like nothing she’d ever felt. Her behind blazed hotter with each sharp stroke, little lines of fire licking her flesh. But as she endured the painful swishing of the short rod, something else was happening. She squeezed her thighs together and wriggled on Josh’s knee. Swick! Swick! Oh! It’s searing. So sharp! she thought. But she also felt a growing wetness between her legs.

After twenty-four carefully measured strokes, it was done. For a moment Gwyneth closed her eyes and slowly writhed across Josh’s lap as he tossed the rod away and sat back. Then he helped her to her feet. Her eyes were wet with tears, her face flushed, and her lip was quivering, but Josh knew she wasn’t really hurt. He had held back. He had put on a show for the deputy and it had worked. As he guessed, she had been more interested in the humiliation that Gwyneth would suffer by being spanked like a child—and that had satisfied her.

The deputy took her leave. Gwyneth was allowed to go upstairs and compose herself.

“Wait,” said Josh to the deputy who had started to take her leave. “I need to go into the village. Tonight is the Island Council meeting. I’ll ride with Deputy Beacham.”

To Lydia Heatherton he said, “I hope to have good news when I return. Tell Gwyneth I’m sorry, but to trust me—it will all work out.”

**************************

He returned late. The house was silent. He let himself in and ascended the stairs. As he did, he reflected on how it had gone. Based upon his soil reports and the photographs, the council had enough evidence and declined to issue building permits. The developers were stopped dead in their tracks. At least for now. It would be a long, uphill fight, but he had made up his mind. He’d stay and battle or wage war. For the dowager Countess Heatherton, for Griggs and the servants, for the farmers and shepherds, and for a traditional way of life that was worth holding on to. And for Gwyneth. Especially for Gwyneth. Now, if he could just get the cooperation of a certain Lady Heatherton. She’s probably madder than a wet hen. It was dark in his room, save for moonlight streaming through the window. The faint glow allowed him to see a figure, shrouded in shadow, standing in a dark corner.

“What are you doing here?” he said.

Gwyneth stepped forward, allowing the moonlight to illuminate her luscious form. It was draped in a long, lacy peignoir. Underneath, she was naked.

“I tried to tell you,” she said. “I get terribly randy after a flogging. Even at school, a dose of the slipper would have me all squishylater.” She approached and embraced him, pulling his lips to hers.

The kiss blew the one in the alley away in its intensity. She ground her supple body against his. “Let’s get you out of these clothes.”

Josh was nonplussed. “I stopped the developers,” was all he could think of to say.

She put her finger to his lips. “Shssh. I know. We do have telephones. You can tell me the whole tale later. Right now, I want you. What you don’t understand is that when you heat up a certain part of a girl’s anatomy, other parts heat up, too. Now take me tobed, Joshua Fairchild.”

Josh needed no second invitation. He slipped the peignoir from her shoulders and let it fall. The moonlight bathed her supple form, her hair splayed across her shoulders, shimmering. Her nipples were hard and her belly was flat. A patch of fuzz occupied the sweet triangle at the juncture of her legs. Josh was speechless. All he could do was drink it all in.

Her hands got busy. Buttons flew. His shirt came off and she ran her hands across his shoulders before moving to his belt. He stepped out of his pants and embraced her, lifting her in his arms so he could carry her to the big four poster bed. She moaned as his lips explored her from her knees to her neck. She reciprocated by taking his erect member into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it.

The new master of Heatherton Hall put Lady Gwyneth on her back and moved between her legs. Her hand found his penis and guided it in. She had been ready. So ready. He slipped in effortlessly and she moaned in pleasure. Propping himself up on his hands he began to move, a slow reciprocating motion, sliding in and out. She closed her eyes and let the waves of ecstatic pleasure wash over her as she moved beneath him, matching his thrusts with her own counterthrusts. The motion built from a slow, sensual grinding to a full-on thrashing of bodies, seemingly out of control. They were blinded by sensations that erupted in a shattering climax and left
them both limp and dazed.

But only for a few moments. When he began again, it was slower, less frantic, but no less intense. She straddled him and rode him, up and down. When she tired of that, she got on her hands and knees so he could enter her from behind, his belly lightly slapping the luscious bottom he had spanked so soundly earlier in the evening. She didn’t care. It was glorious.

********************

The sun streamed through the window. Josh awoke to find the gorgeous Lady Gwyneth Heatherton still in his bed, asleep. He put his feet on the floor, pushed up, and strode to the window. He looked out. The sun was shining, the air was pure, the hills were green. A breeze off the ocean blew some wispy remaining fog across treetops in the distance. From far away he could hear the faint sounds of sheep bleating as they were led out to pasture. So. The Earl of Carlisle. It had a nice ring to it. I think I’ll stay a while, he thought.

I wish we could stay longer too, but alas, this is the end of the tale.

Monday, April 23, 2018

Roz: I can't quite remember how the conversation happened now, but we talked about spanking early in our relationship and it was a surprising easy and fun conversation.

Spankings started for us in the realm of play. If I recall, I don't think there was too much to the first one, but being the first it was exciting and the intensity increased with subsequent spankings.

Windy: Like Roz's story ,we started out with play one day. Somehow a ping pong paddle ended up in our bedroom. hehe And one of us (me), might have asked him to use it during sex. Very light, but so exciting for the first time. The very first "planned" spanking was very much talked about ahead of time, hurt when it happened, and then led to other intimate activities.

Anon 1: The first adult spanking was while dating an older woman, lived in the same apartment complex. I lived in the unit above hers and we would say hi, small talk and then it become more than small talk. We soon would be going out to dinner, she would joke with the waiters that I was her nephew, solved a lot of problems. Being young and wanting to have fun I started doing “stupid” things and she was for it, to a point. We decided to go to the coast, her boss had a place we could stay and off we went. It was the third day, I slept in, we had been having sex, and when I walked into the kitchen she had a stern look on her face. The previous night out to dinner I got a little carried away, and so I stood there trying to explain. Childish behavior she said standing up, will not tolerate that young man, soon she had a grip on my arm and I was taken back to the bedroom, No way I said, realizing what she was going to do, and before I could say anymore she sat on the bed had me across her lap and my bottom she bared. Her hand really stung, but the hairbrush got my attention. When she stood me up, going to improve, yes I said rubbing a very sore spanked bottom. Thinking it was over, she stood up, told me off with the pj’s and best get to the kitchen. I faced the wall, she said nothing. I was spanked a few times more, did not matter where we were.

Yorkie: My first adult spanking was at the hands of my then fiancé, now my wife, and it was a play spanking where we spanked each other. I loved it of course but she wasn’t enamoured by it at all but was far more open to it then than she is now ironically.

I much prefer our arrangement these days... Last night’s was absolutely divine.

Sir Wendel: Shortly after we met the Misses and I started a discussion about the spankings we used to get from our parents. Figured we were both interested after that so the first opportune moment I took her across my lap and gave her a good spanking. She enjoyed it so several more followed. On one of her girl’s night out evenings she stepped out of the shower and called me into the bedroom. She placed a chair out in the open and pulled a rather firm looking paddle out of the closet. She told me that I would be getting a severe spanking to ensure I behaved while she was gone. She sat down naked and pulled me across her lap. Then I got the first few whacks. The sting was wonderful. The paddling went on for a bit, not sure how many whacks but when it was over every inch of my bottom was sore. It was rather uncomfortable all night but I had a smile on my face. A few days later I was over her lap again getting another paddling.

Bonnie: I convinced a high school boyfriend to spank me, but let's decide that doesn't count. My first college spanking was with Randy. I've told this story before, but the short version is that we were playing in bed and decided to try a spanking. Needless to say, it was a resounding success. We pretty much never looked back.

Anon 2: It took a few tries to get it right. Irene was never reluctant to spank me, but she didn't understand for a while that I craved an extended and intense experience, and that a bit of lecture added to the whole thing.

She did give me a memorable paddling with a hairbrush on our honeymoon. We were staying in a cabin in the mountains - it was winter and we were cross-country skiing. There were several other cabins not far away.

We were about to go to the cafeteria for dinner when she told me it was time for a spanking. She told me to take off my pants and went after my bottom with the hairbrush. Boy, did it ever hurt, but not so much I wanted her to stop. It just got hotter and hotter. When she finally stopped she ordered me to stand in the corner with my hands on my head. While I was standing there, all I could think was how lucky I was that I had married a great woman, but that she was unafraid to indulge in my sexual proclivities. We had a wonderful "roll in the hay" (as we sometimes call it) after dinner.

That was in 1982. Since that time, she has come to enjoy spanking me as much as I enjoy getting it - maybe more.

And we kicked things up a few notches after the kids went off to college 10 years ago. The spanking etc. and sex is better than ever.

Amy: I was barely an adult, 18 and living with my 22 year old boyfriend. He
came home from work and found me on the porch smoking a cigarette. I
hid it behind my back and he could see the smoke rising up behind me.
He asked about it and I lied. Next thing I knew, he had me over his
shoulder, spanking me the entire time he was carrying me in the house.
That was my first spanking ever and it resonated deeply within me. I
wanted MORE.

Ronnie: We were on holiday and I read some throwaway paperback with spanking in
it. I showed P the extract and he said it seemed to have done her some
good. I think that was probably the first time P ever mentioned it, the
actual determined act of spanking, and told him I agreed. Then later the
same day he spanked me, we'd been out to some barbecue place where
there was dancing and free flowing wine. Anyway to cut it short when we
got back to our chalet I got spanked, it was fairly hard (or so I
thought at the time) but exciting and led to other intimate activities.

Hermione: It happened with my ex. He had built a piece of furniture—totally vanilla—which I thought perfect for the purpose, so I came out and asked him if he would spank me over it. He complied, although I don't believe he was entirely comfortable about it. It didn't last too long, and we both laughed a lot, from nerves. My takeaway was that it hurt a lot more than I thought it would, but I had broken the ice on the topic and was game to try it again.

Friday, April 20, 2018

No Complete the Caption this week, as I have been immersed in tax returns. My dogs have been helping me by sitting on my lap when I'm typing, and running off with any T4s they can reach. So here are some excellent dog-related FAILs.

Wednesday, April 18, 2018

Let's continue with Rollin Hand's novelette, "The Ladies of Heatherton Hall". Last week, two young ladies felt the force of the Earl's paddle on their posteriors. Who will be in line for punishment this week? Read on!

A day later the cousins were back on the ferry and headed to the mainland. Now that the incident was over, Josh’s attention returned to the problem that had been foremost in the minds of them all before the ruckus in the pub—the developers and their impact upon Oakton Island.

“Let me ask you something,” said Josh as they watched the ferry pull away. “Just how is it that they can build here—especially on the beach? Who decides if they get building permits?”

“The Island Council. They decide. While my father was alive he had tremendous influence, but now .... ” She shrugged. It was a defeated look.

Of course. With the old man gone the vultures had moved in.

“And instead of going to the council you engage in useless protesting with a bunch of kids from the mainland?”

Gwyneth pouted. “It’s not what you think.”

“Isn’t it? Creating a riot, that’s helpful.”

“You have a better idea?”

“I do. You’ve got me wrong. I maybe can help you. Show me where they want to build.”

So Gwyneth drove him out there. It was as Josh suspected. The developers wanted the homes directly on the beach or on bluffs overlooking it. They were building for view, ignoring the soil conditions and building on areas that were inherently unstable.

“Would they bother if they couldn’t get beachfront property?”

“No. It’s the beach that they want.”

“Okay,” said Josh, who had brought tools and a camera, knowing what he intended to do. It was Sunday, with no one around, so they could move about taking soil samples and photographing the building sites.

“What will this accomplish?” said Gwyneth.

“It’s evidence. I’ll get these analyzed. In the meantime, no more protests. Got it? We’ll do our fighting in the council.”

“Oh, yes, Your Highness,” said Gwyneth with some sarcasm. But she was warming to the handsome American. And now, after all that had transpired, he seemed more invested in her and her family and the land.

“I mean it. If I’m the Duke of Earl or whatever around here, they’ll have to listen to me, but I don’t want that authority undercut by any shenanigans on your part.”

“The duke of what?” said Gwyneth, puzzled. “You are the Earl of Carlisle. It’s a hereditary title— there’s no Duke of Earl .... ”

“It’s just an expression, okay? Look, I mean what I said. Don’t undermine my efforts by acting out with those neo-hippies from the mainland.” He decided to yank her chain. “Besides, don’t forget that you can go ‘on report’ too. I took notes the other night.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” she said in a huff. But at the same time she blushed at the thought of the handsome American taking her to task. Just like her cousins. She licked her lips nervously. Over his knee, skirts up, her bottom bare, his sturdy palm smacking her, soundly teaching her... obedience. She shook her head to try and cast that thought away.

The next day Josh took his samples and got on the ferry. It took him a week to get the soil samples tested and the physical layout analyzed, but the results were conclusive. The soil was too unstable, too prone to shifting. In the space of two or three years, beach erosion on the bluffs would cause those houses to fall into the ocean. He procured an official report and returned to Oakton Island, ready to appear before the Island Council. He had to hurry. The meeting was that night.

******************************

But he arrived back at Heatherton Hall only to find a distraught Lydia Heatherton.

“It’s my granddaughter. She’s been arrested.”

This was not good. Just when he had the evidence in hand. “Why?

What did she do?”

“Oh dear,” she said. “I’m told it was a protest. Things got rather out of hand, I’m afraid. She threw a rock at the developer’s building. They saw her. It broke a window right out. There was other damage, too. Lots of them have been arrested.”

Josh ran his hand through his hair. Well, that’s just great. And with the council meeting tonight.

“That’s not the worst,” said Lydia. “You were away, so she’s been sentenced to the birch along with some others. Please. You must go there. Do something. Listen, as the earl, you have influence. You must use it. The Heathertons have always been immune from the local justice—- with the proviso that the earl must dispense appropriate justice here. This right has been exercised to spare the family from becoming a public spectacle. But of course you already know that,” she said, now recalling the incident with the cousins.

“If you don’t act, she will be strapped to the frame in the police station and whipped. The papers will pick it up. We’ll be humiliated.”

“But then, I have to punish her, don’t I? Only here, in private?”

“If sentence has been passed. A deputy constable may act as witness to see that justice is carried out. But, yes, here in the study, just like the other night.”

Josh took a deep breath. He’d been half kidding when he’d made the “on report” threat. There was no help for it now, though. He’d have to carry through. And just when he thought things were getting interesting between him and the nubile Lady Gwyneth.

“Come with me, Lady Heatherton. Let’s go get Gwyneth.”

*****************************

They were about to come for her. Gwyneth sat in the cell she had occupied for a day. The hearing had been perfunctory. She wasn’t surprised. With her father dead, the constabulary had been compromised by the influence of the developer’s team, all of whom were positively gleeful at the prospect of a humiliating whipping for a Heatherton. She heard footsteps clomping down the hall. This was it. In minutes she’d be strapped over the frame, her bottom bare, while a swishy birch whistled through the air and delivered its stinging message of pain.

Two constables and a matron appeared. Gwyneth shivered. It was the one they talked about. Beacham. Bess Beacham. The one who whipped the girls. She wore a tight-lipped smile, one that said that she relished her job.

“You’re to come with us, Lady Heatherton.”

On shaky legs, she got up to follow. She’d seen the birching frame, a wooden apparatus over which prisoners were bent, secured with stout straps to hold the condemned still while the buttocks were forced to arch out, presented prominently for the birch.

Several protesters had been arrested and sentenced, and those sentences were now being carried out. She had heard the opening and slamming of cell doors, the vocal protests, and then silence—until the whine of the rod and yelps of pain had echoed down the hall.

So they took her. But they headed up front, not to the room in the back where she had heard the swish and thwack of the birch, the cries of pain, and the pleas for mercy. Instead of the dreaded punishment chamber, they emerged in the hearing room, where she was greeted by the sight of Josh Fairchild and her grandmother, Lydia.

They addressed a magistrate. Josh made his statement. “We are here to take Gwyneth Heatherton. We invoke the traditional custom. I understand that she has been sentenced to two dozen strokes of the birch rod for vandalism. I assure you she will be duly punished by the Earl of Carlisle in private.”

The chief constable nodded to the magistrate. Apparently he had been informed by Officer Robinson after the cousins’ incident. Josh explained who he was, backed up by letters from the solicitor and by Lydia Heatherton. Everyone in the room looked at each other as if deciding, but in the end, tradition held. “I will release her to you, sir. But Deputy Constable Beacham will accompany you. Just to act as witness to see it’s done right.”

Josh nodded and looked at Gwyneth. The color had drained from her face as she realized that the fate in store for her might be even more mortifying than she had thought.

It was a silent ride in the car back to Heatherton Hall. Gwyneth sat in the rear with Deputy Beacham. From time to time Josh caught Gwyneth’s eye in the rear view mirror and she quickly looked away each time, clearly ashamed and embarrassed. And nervously awaiting the fate in store for her, very soon, it seemed.

They arrived and got out of the car. Lydia took her granddaughter’s arm. “You brought this upon yourself, dear, so I suggest you prepare yourself.”

“But, Granny,” she hissed, “he’s a MAN.”

“Yes, he is, dear,” she said, patting her granddaughter’s arm.

“Yes, he is.”

Josh took her by the arm as they walked to the front door. “Trust me,” he whispered. “Follow my lead and it won’t be so bad.”

“But I have to tell you something,” she said under her breath. “I get... ”

“Tell me later,” said Josh. “Afterwards. Now scoot.” And he patted her rear to hurry her along. He heard her gasp.

Josh sought out Mrs. Finch and gave her instructions. Then he joined the rest of them in the library where they waited for Gwyneth, who had gone upstairs to prepare herself.

I'm afraid we have run out of room, and will have to end this saga next week.

Tuesday, April 17, 2018

We have been enjoying The Terror, a television series about the doomed Franklin expedition of 1845 to find the northwest passage to India. It is based on fact, but there has been a fair bit of the supernatural added to turn it into something of a horror movie. We know that there were no survivors, which makes it quite sad to watch. (Several expeditions later searched fruitlessly for the lost party, but it wasn't until 2014 that Erebus, one of the two ships in the expedition, was found. Terror was finally located in 2016.)

Last week's episode was entitled "Punished, as a boy" and naturally that set my pulse racing, as I'm sure it did yours when you read the title of this post. In the episode, three of the sailors committed various infractions which caused the captain of Erebus to sentence them to 12 lashes each with the cat o'nine tails. The ringleader argued, which raised the sentence to 20, then 30 lashes, and finally, that he should be "punished, as a boy".

The next scene begins with a closeup of the naked back of one of the miscreants, striped with blood. It is now the turn of the ringleader. He is shirtless, and is led to a wooden bench, bent over it, and bound. Then the captain orders that he be "punished, as a boy". At that, his breeches are pulled down to expose his bare buttocks (which we don't see). Obviously, the point of being whipped across the bum instead of across the back, as a man would be, is to add humiliation to the punishment. The flogging begins, and the viewers watch the culprit's face, and hear his muffled groans and gasps. It is only when the flogging is over that we see his naked, striped bum. He then staggers off to the ship's doctor, who tends to him.

The scene was done tastefully enough, and Ron remarked during it that I was seeing a really good spanking. I agreed, although it wasn't much of a turn on for me because I am not fond of seeing violent beatings or blood. Still, I thought you might be interested.

In closing, I want to share with you what is considered by some to be Canada's second national anthem. Listen to the late, great Stan Rogers sing "Northwest Passage".

Monday, April 16, 2018

Dan: It does have an iconic aspect and definitely has me thinking about
spankings whenever I see a large, oval shaped brush. But, it does not
play a big role for us in real life, because the spankings with a
hairbrush just aren't very effective. Now, the bath brush is a
different, and altogether much more painful story.

Amy: In literature, the hairbrush always got me going. I finally told Eric
about my fantasies surrounding it and we went to Target and bought the
squarish wooden flat back brush that I've seen posted on many blogs. It
HURT LIKE HELL. We were both shocked how extreme it was. Now Eric
uses it but only with my jeans on. Too intense on bare skin.
Thankfully, after a spanking with the thing, he brushes my hair. Ahhh.
One of my favorite things in the whole world.

Rosco: Irene will pick up the hairbrush once in a while and give me a few sharp
smacks. It’s the tool we started with, and she gave me quite a paddling
with on our honeymoon in 1982, I wonder if people in the adjoining
cabins heard the noise.

But for many years she’s preferred her
long riding crop, along with a regular tawse and a short one we found on a
trip to New York City. And in the spring she’ll instruct me to find a
few straight supple shoots at the base on wild plum trees in our area.
They have a delicious sting.

Sir Wendel: The hair brush has become a symbol of a spanking and we always think of
spanking when we see one. We have actual paddles but once in a while a
good licking with the brush is just what the doctor ordered.

Yorkie: My wife needed a new hairbrush. I chose a particularly large black
plastic one that seemed to have some weight. It was a spontaneous
purchase and therefore not perfect but it does pack quite a sting and it
is quite LOUD. And yes, I encouraged her to buy a new hairbrush for a
dual purpose. ;)

Arched one: Thinking back in time, I would say in the U.S. the hair brush was the
1st implement used in spanking as most families had one. We have one but
it's seldom used but it does have its wear marks from meeting my
bottom. Her choice of implements is the wooden spoon, belt, strop and
paddle. My own feelings on the brush, being the one that feels it. I
think it has more sting with less effort on the spankers part.

Roz: The hairbrush always makes me think of spankings, however, it has never been used here.

Joe: The hairbrush was handy, always on the dresser, Jackie had bought a
nice large one, it brought the results she wanted and she used it for
sometime. Today it is a traditional paddle, covers more area she said,
and so very effective. As for how I see it, I would rather have the
hairbrush, that paddle really allows the spanking to last longer once
she is done.

Windy: We have one, but it is only used on my hair. I am taking Amy's advice on this one and staying away from the hairbrush.

Treffor: For me, the quality of wood is of the utmost importance in a hairbrush.A
well-polished ebony or similar hardwood hairbrush has a the resonance
of a Stradivarius, eliciting yowls of pain from the male
spankee. It does appear as the pre-eminent instrument for the female for
discipline of the male and should be left prominently displayed for
edification and attention.

Ronnie: I've always associated the hairbrush with the US, not sure why. We own
two hairbrushes but they very rarely come into play. Not a favourite of
ours.

Bernie: We did get a hair brush for the exclusive use of spankings. We used it a
few times, but haven't gone back to it in years. It just didn't seem to
work for either of us. But, the best to all who enjoy (?) it.

Anon: I consider the hairbrush to be the quintessential spanking implement,
and it is, without question, my implement of choice. A hairbrush
spanking always pushes the right buttons, especially in real life,
because I believe that no other implement delivers the message to a
mature woman that if she acts like a naughty little girl she’s going to
be treated like a naughty little girl the way a hairbrush does.

I
love the way a hairbrush feels when I hold it, the satisfying sound it
makes on impact, the way I can use it over a wide area or narrow in on a
specific target, and the spirited response it elicits when I apply it
to a naughty woman’s upturned bottom. Another nice thing about a
hairbrush is that it delivers the desired results whether applied to a
bottom that’s encased in sturdy jeans, skimpy panties, or nothing at
all.

As for the women I’ve played with, most of them have a
passionate love/hate relationship with the “dreaded” hairbrush (they
hate being spanked with it because it hurts like hell, but they love
what it does for their psyche), which, for me, makes it the perfect
implement. I find that the older I get, the more I rely on tried and
true methods of doing things, and when it comes to dealing with a
recalcitrant mature lady, there’s no more tried and true method then
putting her over my knee and vigorously applying a hairbrush to her bare
bottom until she kicks and squirms and howls like the naughty little
girl she is inside.

I do use other implements for the sake of
variety, but I prefer the hairbrush because the “bottom” line is, a
hairbrush just works.

Terpsichore: Interesting to read everyone's thoughts. My hair brush almost always get used on my hair but a rare occasion.

Hermione: I love stories where the naughty girl or boy gets an over the knee hairbrush spanking. I suppose the reason is because many of the early spanking stories I read happened just that way. In real life, however, I find a hairbrush is too thuddy. I prefer a leather paddle, if I have any say ion the matter.

Sunday, April 15, 2018

Welcome to our weekly discussion of all things spanking. Lately I have been thinking about how certain implements are traditionally used in certain parts of the world, and therefore resonate with people used to experiencing them. The tawse, used frequently in Scotland, was, until recently, a rarity elsewhere. The English cane is the implement of choice for many adults residing in that country, and the paddle is most often the first choice in the US. Then there's the hairbrush.

What are your thoughts on the hairbrush? Do you think it has an association with a particular part of the world? Does the hairbrush push the right buttons for you in literature, videos and pictures? How about in real life? Is it your go-to implement, or is it rarely part of your spanking activity?

Leave your response as a comment, and I will publish a summary of our discussion once everyone has had a chance to speak.

Saturday, April 14, 2018

This is the original caption that came with the photo, and it has been around on Facebook for a while, although since I don't use FB I hadn't seen it. Now here are your captions:

KDPierre: Despite their good intentions, these protesters received a lot of
criticism from people who thought such a ban was cruel and unfair to
those who walked with a limp.

Joe: Hi, I first saw this photo a long time ago in a 'hardback' book, to do
with the punishment of School Girls. The photo was, I believe, taken
at a County Show in the south of England and the young ladies were
protesting about frequent canings they received at their Private or
Charity school, and some had been caned at 18/19 on the bare bottom! I
am not sure of the Author.

Baxter: No to the cane, but turn the sign around and it says yes to the tawse. Sure. :)

Anon 1: Following their demonstration, the protestors were marched into the
Headmaster's office where they were informed that the school
administration was in agreement that the cane was an outdated form of
punishment for young ladies. Then the Headmaster unveiled his new
implement of choice, a large wooden paddle, which he then proceeded to
apply to each girl's knicker-clad bottom. Afterward, the girls all
agreed that their protest had not been in vain because even though six
of the best with the paddle hurt terribly and left them unable to sit
comfortably in class for several days, it was still better than the much
hated cane.

Windy: I was just thinking I wouldn't want to be any of those girls because the
would end up in very big trouble in one of Hermione's stories !! :)

Anon 2: Glenda and her husband, James, were sitting at the kitchen table when
their granddaughter, Felicity, brought in a photo album she’d found and
inquired if the girl on the right helping to hold the sign was her
grandmother. An embarrassed Glenda acknowledged that yes, it was indeed
her, and explained that when she was in school, it was common practice
for the teachers and headmasters to punish girls by giving them strokes
of the cane, and that she and her friends were protesting because they
thought the practice was antiquated and that they were too old to be
punished like naughty children.
When her granddaughter asked if the
protest had worked, Glenda sighed and replied that it had not, that
their fathers had put a quick stop to it and had hauled them all home
where each girl received a good paddling, and that when they got back to
school the headmaster had made it abundantly clear that he was not
about to abandon the cane as his preferred method of punishing
obstreperous young ladies. Felicity grimaced a bit and stated that she
was glad her school had stopped using corporal punishment before she got
there. She then said she knew Glenda and James were sweethearts at the
time and asked what her grandfather thought about the protest. James
started to answer but was interrupted by Glenda, who said he was very
supportive of her efforts.
After Felicity left to join her friends for
an outing to the mall, James inquired with a sly grin as to why Glenda
hadn’t been truthful with Felicity. Glenda blushed and replied that
Felicity certainly didn’t need to know about the fight they’d had
because James had forbidden her to take part in the protest, and that in
addition to the punishment she’d received from her father and the
headmaster, he had followed through on his threat to give her a sound
spanking. James laughed and said that although he certainly understood
her point of view, that nevertheless, she had lied, and that obviously
it had been far too long since he had held her accountable for such
naughty behavior. James then pushed his chair back from the table and
patted his lap. Glenda, her thoughts drifting back to the very first
time James had beckoned her across his lap, inquired what would happen
if she protested, to which James replied that any protest she might
stage would be as effective now as it was when she was a schoolgirl.

Bernie: There seem to be six protesters. Did they each get one per protester?

Sir Wendel: Victory came just 2 days after the protest started. The Head Master got
rid of the cane and replaced it with the belt which he promptly used the
whip the protester's bare bottoms.

Anon 3: As the women of the “No To The Cane” protest gathered to celebrate the
40th anniversary of their demonstration they lamented the fact that
until a few years ago, the day’s activities had ended with each woman
receiving a sound spanking from her husband to mark the fact that this
day was also the first time their boyfriends, now husbands, had spanked
them. The boys had dragged them away minutes before headmaster got to
the field and taken them to Frank’s basement because it was close by.
The ungrateful girls had been such brats that the boys finally yanked
them over their laps and spanked them. And to make sure the girls knew
they were in this together, the girls were passed around and spanked by
each boy, finally ending up back across their own boyfriend’s lap for a
final flurry of swats.
the women sat whining about the lack of
attention being paid to their bottoms, and other parts, Nadine suggested
they re-stage their protest … with a slight twist. The next day they
bought schoolgirl outfits and lingerie that matched what they had worn
40 years ago. They texted their husbands and told them to meet up after
work, come to Frank’s house, and join them in the backyard. When the men
arrived, they found the ladies dressed in their schoolgirl outfits and
holding a sign that read, “Yes To The Hairbrush.” The husbands then led
their wayward wives down to the basement, where a circle of folding
chairs, a hairbrush on each, had been arranged. In no time, the men had
draped their naughty schoolgirl-wives over their knees, and were raising
their skirts and lowering their knickers, all the while admiring the
voluptuous bottoms on display. The women set about wiggling and grinding
their hips into their husbands’ laps in hope of arousing some hard
evidence to confirm their plan was working. Their efforts were soon
rewarded, and as their husbands patted their bottoms, the women
twitched, moaned and fantasized about the pleasures awaiting her.
Their
bliss was short-lived, and they were snapped back to reality when the
first round of swats landed on their backsides, at which point their
sultry squirming gave way to involuntary writhing, the warmth in their
loins was overcome by the searing heat radiating from their rear ends,
and their attention was refocused from the hardness beneath them to the
hardness of the hairbrushes raining down on their upturned fannies. The
women had not anticipated their husbands would be such energetic
partners and were unprepared for the furious manner in which the
hairbrushes were being applied to their vulnerable cheeks. It wasn’t
long before they were kicking and squalling in pain.
They also hadn’t
counted on their husbands re-enacting the entire spanking scene, so just
when they thought their torment had ended, they were instructed to
shift to the next husband in line. Once they’d made their way around the
circle, they found themselves back across their husband’s lap for one
final dose of the hairbrush, after which they were lined up against the
wall so their husbands could admire their rosy rumps and enjoy a
well-earned beer.
Standing in Nadine’s kitchen rubbing their still
throbbing behinds the next morning, the satisfied wives agreed that
their protest had succeeded, and that despite the fact that they
wouldn’t be able to sit comfortably any time in the near future since
their husbands had vowed to make up for lost spanking time, the had to
admit that a sore bottom was a small price to pay for a happy husband
and a stimulating marriage.

Hermione: Many men and women, who had obtained their lifelong interest in spanking by being caned at school, tried to reason with the protesters, who eventually saw reason and dispersed.

Thursday, April 12, 2018

Recently I heard from Boru, a regular reader of this blog, and he very kindly sent me this photo. I have to assume it wasn't photoshopped because it looks like a real protest from the sixties. What do you suppose was the outcome of this protest?

Complete the caption by leaving a comment and I will publish your votes—pro or con—on Saturday.